


Resurrection

by GoldenDaydreams



Series: Necromancy!AU [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aura Reading, Case Fic, Convin, Happy Ending, M/M, Necromancer! Connor, Necromancy, Necromancy is Kinda Gross FYI, Necromancy!AU, RK Bros, Relax - Freeform, Temporary Character Death, Tina Chen & Gavin Reed Friendship, Witches, Y'all Know I'm A Marshmallow and Love Happy Endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-29 22:23:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18303044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDaydreams/pseuds/GoldenDaydreams
Summary: Gavin might hate witches, but speaking to a Necromancer might be the only way he solves this homicide.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to just be a quick one-shot, but I fell in love and will never be free.

Gavin Reed had been a cop for long enough to know three things for certain.  
  
1\. If a woman is murdered, it’s probably the husband.  
2\. The best place to get a quick/cheap meal around the precinct was at Chicken Feed.  
3\. Stay away from witches.  
  
It was common knowledge around the precinct that he hated witches, he feared them in equal measure- but figured avoidance of them would ensure it wouldn’t ever be an issue. Yet, he was almost certain that Fowler had given him an order that would absolutely break rule three. “You’re going to have to run that by me again. You want me to go where?”  
  
“The Stern House.”  
  
“The Stern House? You want _me_ to go to the _Stern_ House?”  
  
Captain Fowler sat back in his chair, a brow raised. “Have you been forgetting to wear ear protection at the gun range?”  
  
“It houses a fucking coven-”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Of witches!”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Specifically, Sterns are _necromancers_.”  
  
“I’m well aware.”  
  
“We have no jurisdiction on their grounds.”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“And _you_ want _me_ to ask for their assistance?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“They could kill me for trespassing.”  
  
Fowler rocked a hand back and forth. “It’s unlikely.”  
  
“No.” Gavin took a physical step back. “No fucking way.”  
  
Fowler let out a bone deep sigh. “Shame. It sounded like you wanted to make Lieutenant, but a Lieutenant has to have the backbone to work with the witches.”  
  
Gavin groaned as he tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. “Fuck. Fine, fine, I’ll do it. The Stern house. Sure, fine, how bad could it be?”  
  
::  
  
“Fuck me,” Gavin muttered staring out his windshield, wipers on high as the rain came pouring down. The house was massive, and imposing. Building materials went from stone to brick, an addition to the original house. The entire property was surrounded by brick posts, and iron fences. It looked like something out of a stereotypical horror movie.  
  
He pulled his car up to the gate but there was no speaker box, no button to press. He didn’t have a number to call, and doubted that it would be a smart idea to lay on the horn until someone came to see to him. Briefly, he considered driving back to the precinct, he could honestly tell Fowler that he’d gone to the Stern house. He’d likely end up kissing his promotion goodbye.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a smaller gate. A walk-through. _Fuck_.  
  
The rain had him drenched before he even got the gate open, and stepped through. Officially on Stern territory. The wind picked up, and he tugged the zipper on his leather jacket up as high as he could. It didn’t matter, there was no avoiding the downpour.  
  
He jogged past the gardens, flowers blowing and being beaten down by the rain. Up the stairs, he pounded his fist on the door before fear could sink in, and force him to turn tail.  
  
Half a minute passed, and Gavin was ready to bolt when the door opened to a good looking man in a ‘Witches Before Bitches’ t-shirt, and pajama bottoms with cartoon robots. “Uh. Hi?”  
  
“Hi?” Honestly, Gavin wasn’t sure which of them was more confused.  
  
“You… don’t live here.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“So… why are you here?”  
  
“I need to talk to someone in the Stern family.”  
  
The man sighed, stepped back, and motioned him inside. “Shoes off. I’ll get you a towel before you drip all over the place.” The man went through a door, and it sounded like he was running down a set of stairs.  
  
Gavin pushed his hair back, feeling the water droplets along the back of his neck. It was so much warmer inside, and he could hear a fire crackling nearby. There was a glass table to his right, a big pot of flowers springing up in soft blues and purple. He’d been expecting dark grey walls, maybe with some macabre photographs. Instead, the entrance was painted in the softest of greens, and it smelled lightly of vanilla.  
  
The man re-entered in different clothes, without the towel, and from a completely different direction. Fingertips danced in shadows, and that primal fear gripped Gavin by the throat.  
  
“Who the fuck are you?” the man snarled, stepping out of the corridor completely yet the light still wouldn’t touch him. “And what the fuck are you doing in my house.”  
  
“I-I-I-”  
  
Footsteps running up the stairs, the door opened and- ah, twins.  
  
“Rhys, stop!” Those same shadows clung around him. “I invited him in!”  
  
“A stranger. In the house.” Rhys raised a brow, but the shadows dissipated “The House Mother would be furious.”  
  
The shadows clung a second longer around the man in pajamas, but then softened to nothing. “House Mother isn’t here.”  
  
This made Rhys beam. “And I’m supposed to be the rebellious one.”  
  
The man finally passed Gavin the towel. “State your business.”  
  
After everything, Gavin had nearly forgotten. “I’m Detective Gavin Reed with the Detroit Police.” He shoved his face into the towel, half to dry it, half to escape from the weight of their stares for a moment. After taking a deep breath, he lowered the towel. “Uh, there has been a murder-”  
  
“Are you accusing-”  
  
“Rhys!” The other snapped, strong and controlled.  
  
Someone shuffled down the hall, and the three of them ceased their conversation. While the newcomer was certainly related to the twins, he stood a few inches taller, had a stockier build, and bright grey eyes. He’d looked ready to say something to his brothers, only to then shift his attention to Gavin. “Oh, House Mother is going to be pissed.”  
  
“I told him that,” Rhys said.  
  
“Sorry to have woken you, Noah,” the other said. “We will try to keep quiet.”  
  
“I’m awake now,” he said, although he didn’t really look it considering the way he stopped to lean against the wall. The dark circles under his eyes made Gavin peg him as an insomniac. “What’s he doing here?”  
  
“Accusing us of murder,” Rhys replied.  
  
“No,” Gavin said quickly, the fear overwhelming his hatred for a moment. “I’m not accusing anyone! I’m here to ask for help.”  
  
“For help?” Witches Before Bitches raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Is there… someone in charge here that I should be speaking to?”  
  
“Me.” Both twins said at once.  
  
Noah sighed, and walked past them. “I’m making pancakes.”  
  
“Pancakes?” Rhys suddenly perked up, and his attention completely shifted, fixated on Noah’s retreating back. “Blueberries or chocolate chips.”  
  
“Skor Chocolate bar pieces,” Noah replied.  
  
“Fuck this,” Rhys said, trailing after Noah. “Shout if you need me. We both know I’m more adept at putting peoples insides on their outsides.”  
  
“Ignore him, that’s not actually possible.”  
  
Gavin wasn’t really doing much but twisting the material of the towel in his hand. “Oh. Okay.”  
  
“We don’t usually have guests in the house,” he said. “And certainly not uninvited plain-bloods.”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“It’s old traditions, don’t worry about it. Your energy is very… frazzled though.” The pause made Gavin wonder if that was the man’s first choice of word, or the polite alternative. “It’s likely what put Rhys on edge. Then again, Rhys does enjoy a power show.”  
  
“Uh… Look- sorry, I never did get your name.”  
  
“My apologies. I’m Connor.” He held out a hand, and Gavin gripped it, trying to find a balance between weakness, and gripping too tight.  
  
“Connor,” Gavin repeated. “My Captain ordered me to request your assistance on a case. A man was murdered and we have no leads.”  
  
“Nothing related to magic is admissible in court.”  
  
“I know, but the victim was the son of a prominent senator.”  
  
“It’ll look bad on the precinct if the case isn’t solved.”  
  
Gavin nodded- it would also likely be the end of his career. “I just need a lead. A suspect. Something to go on.”  
  
“This way,” Connor motioned, and Gavin followed down the corridor, and into a large room with a roaring fireplace. “Take a seat, get warm. I’ll get dressed quickly, and we can go to the precinct to discuss rates.”  
  
::  
  
Connor had an air of confidence, and competence sitting in Fowler’s office, across from the Captain. Dressed in trousers, a white button up, and suspenders, he looked more like the detectives of old. Gavin might hate witches, but he still had an appreciation for how Connor looked. The black wool coat had been disposed over a chair, and he sat primly in the other. Gavin waited by the doorway, watching as they went through polite pleasantries.  
  
“Let’s get to business. Detective Reed tells me you need a hint on your case,” Connor said, leaning back, clearly comfortable with the art of negotiation.  
  
“We wouldn’t mind being thrown a bone,” Fowler replied.    
  
“Do you have access to the body, and are the eyes fair game, because if not, you’re wasting my time.”  
  
“The victim’s father has given consent.”  
  
“And you’re well aware of the fact that anything I get from the dead man is not admissible in court.”  
  
“I’m a police captain,” Fowler replied dryly. “I’m well aware.”  
  
Connor reached forward, grabbed a pen, and then wrote a number on a pad of paper, turning it to face Fowler. Gavin couldn’t see it from where he stood, but Fowler’s eyes widened.  
  
“We don’t have that kind of money for informants of any kind.”  
  
“Consultant is actually what I’d be considered,” Connor corrected. “And the Senator is the one who wants to find his son’s killer, I’m sure he’d foot the bill.”  
  
“This is extortion.”  
  
Connor’s fingertips darkened, shadows moving like smoke. “You’re asking me to do a job, and I’m telling you how much it will cost you to have that job done. We both know how much Ms Stern would charge if she were here, and frankly, she’d likely not even humour your request, so I’d advise you to not insult the one person here who might be able to close this case.”  
  
Fowler nodded. “I’ll speak with the senator.”  
  
The shadows dissipated. “Very well.”  
  
“Gavin, show Mr. Stern the break room while I make the call.”  
  
“Mr. Arkay.”  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“I’m pledged to the Stern Coven, but my surname is Arkay,” Connor said standing. “And time is precious, don’t waste mine.” He grabbed his jacket and stepped away from the desk.  
  
Gavin backed up a step, pushing the door open with his back. “This way.” He shouldn’t be so attracted to someone who could talk down to his Captain like that, but he’d be lying if it didn’t make him fixate on Connor. He passed by Connor at the bottom of the office stairs, and led the way into the break room, thankful that it was empty. “Do you even drink coffee?”  
  
“I don’t know how people who don’t even survive.”  
  
Gavin busied himself with preparing a fresh pot, filling the coffee maker with water, locating the filters (which no one in the damn precinct would put them back in the same place they found them) and filling it with some ground coffee. With it percolating, Gavin tapped his fingers on the counter a moment.  
  
He looked over his shoulder, and Connor had taken a seat on one of the stools at the table. “Might I ask you a question, Detective? It might border on personal.”  
  
“I might not answer you,” Gavin replied, hoping that his answer wouldn’t anger the witch. He still remembered the darkness that clung to Connor, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.  
  
“That’s fair. I’m just wondering, is there any reason in particular that you despise witches?”  
  
Old rage, and fear at war. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
“Your aura. It’s dark, angry,” Connor cocked his head. “Hatred is this particular shade of red, and it tends to reach for that which it’s directed at. No matter which way you turn, that part of your aura reaches for me. At home, it also flickered toward my brothers. It was masked more heavily with your fear then, but still very bright.”  
  
He can’t ignore Connor, or dismiss the question. “Have you ever heard of Richard Perkins?”  
  
Connor actually paled at the mention of the name. “Of course.” Then he shut his eyes. “The sixth sacrifice was Margret Reed.” The light hit Connor’s eyes as they opened, creating the colours of honeyed amber. “A relation of yours, I presume?”  
  
“My mother.”  
  
“My condolences.”  
  
“I don’t want your fucking condolences.”  
  
Connor turned his gaze away. “We’re taught about him, you know. About how his magic had been weak, how he turned to human sacrifice-”  
  
“I really don’t care,” Gavin hissed. “You might read it out of a textbook but it was my life. She was _my_ mother.” He turned away as the coffee maker beeped. “Your kind didn’t even let us arrest him. Just swept him under the rug.”  
  
He felt Connor at his side a few seconds later, despite having not heard him move. “If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it,” Connor whispered. “But he was most certainly _not_ swept under the rug. He was executed.”  
  
Gavin glanced over at Connor, who still looked ill at the mention of Perkins alone. “I was a kid when it happened, you’re certainly not older than me. There is no way you can know-”  
  
“I was there.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Connor glanced at the entrance of the break room as someone walked by, then back to Gavin. “Amanda wanted me to know what happened to those who broke the rules. She had me in attendance to the execution.”  
  
“But-you couldn’t have been more than… seven?”  
  
“I was six.”  
  
“Jesus Christ.” Gavin reached for the cupboard, trying to busy his shaking hands before Connor noticed.  
  
“For the record, what Perkins did is abhorrent, and vile. Witches do not stand for murder, nor sacrifice- we know you plain-bloods can’t easily imprison us, that’s why we deal with the infractions of our own.”  
  
“With execution,” Gavin murmured, pouring them each a mug of coffee.  
  
“Necromancy isn’t good enough for your courts, but it is in ours. Three families agreed to allow a necromancer to see through their loved one’s final moments. And they saw the same face in those final moments, that would have been enough even if they hadn’t found the altars, and… the rest of the evidence.”  
  
Gavin slid the coffee in front of Connor. It was something to know what had actually happened to Perkins- it didn’t fix anything, but it sure as hell didn’t hurt. “Thanks.”  
  
Connor nodded, and held the mug in both hands, like they were cold. “Is there any sugar?”  
  
By the time they both had their coffees made the way they liked, Fowler loomed in the doorway. “The Senator has agreed to your price. You need to fill out a couple of forms in the office, and then Gavin will escort you to the morgue.”  
  
“Okay,” Connor agreed, and picked up his coffee. He and Gavin followed Fowler back into the office. The paperwork was settled quickly, account information for the wire-transfer, basic sign-in information, and wavers of responsibility. Gavin remained by the door, sipping his coffee. “Is that everything?”  
  
“Looks like,” Fowler replied, giving the paperwork one last check over. He nodded to Gavin. “Take him downstairs.”  
  
Gavin held open the door, and led Connor through the precinct. He jammed his finger against the button for the elevator. “So, how does this work?”  
  
“You work homicide, and you’ve never been in a room while a necromancer worked?”  
  
“You noted yourself that it’s not admissible in court.”  
  
Connor gave an affirmative sounding hum, then chugged his coffee down in the time it took for the elevator door to slide open.  
  
Gavin looked on in mild-disgust, and a bit of awe.  
  
Inside, Gavin hit the button for the basement, and waited as the door shut. “You never answered the question,” Gavin said.  
  
“Are you squeamish?”  
  
Gavin, who’d had his mug halfway to his mouth froze. His eyes cut over to Connor. “Just what are you going to do?”  
  
“Remove the victim’s eyeballs.”  
  
The mug lowered. “That is disgusting.”  
  
“I’m aware,” Connor replied, tense, glaring at the door.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I need to see through them.”  
  
“You’re… you’re not going to like… swap eyeballs?”  
  
Connor’s nose scrunched, and his head snapped to Gavin’s direction. “What? Ho-how do you even think that would work? No! I just need them in my hands. Magic, I’m going to use magic. By the Goddess!”  
  
“How am I supposed to know that?”  
  
The door slid open, but Connor didn’t move.  
  
“Uh… we’re here.”  
  
Connor nodded, stepped out. Trudged along half a step behind Gavin the entire way. Gavin paused at the large double doors. Connor appeared to be taking deep breaths, and Gavin could practically see him counting to seven as he exhaled. “Are you going to puke?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“From chugging down that coffee earlier.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Gavin raised a brow.  
  
“Just because I’m a necromancer doesn’t mean… let’s just get this over with,” he brushed past, and shoved open the doors.  
  
The air was colder in the morgue. The victim’s body had been left out for them on a metal table. “His name is Jonathan Whim,” Gavin said, flipping through the report just to keep his hands busy. “Thirty-three years of age.”  
  
Gavin looked up to see Connor with some curved instrument in his hand. He was _not_ squeamish. He looked away. “Why can’t you just leave them in his head?”  
  
“Too much going on. I want to focus on sight.”  
  
He risked a glance over at Connor. “Wouldn’t you get more from the full body?”  
  
Connor glared, the instrument in his hand hovering directly over Whim’s eyeball. “I’m sorry, are you suggesting that I should experience his death second-hand, with every sense- touch included?”  
  
The way he said it chilled Gavin. The implication of power- and of the pain he could experience. “No.”  
  
“Good. Now look away, you’re a little pale, Detective.”  
  
Gavin turned away, humming a little to block out any noise.  
  
“There, I’ve got them.” There was no satisfaction in Connor’s voice, just a dull acceptance. “Is there a chair?”  
  
Gavin looked around, pulled one out from the nearby desk, and rolled it across the room. “Here.”  
  
“Thanks.” Connor sat down carefully, a slightly bloodied eyeball in each hand. He sat back, and let his head rest back. “I might twitch a bit, sometimes it’s disturbing for people to watch, but it’s normal. The shadows in the room might shift, again, it’s normal and there is nothing wrong. Magic around my hands, again normal, nothing to worry about.” Connor then smirked a little. “However, if that body starts moving,” he pointed to the deceased, “you should run.”  
  
“The fuck?” Gavin nearly gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned toward the vic’s body.  
  
“I’m kidding.” Connor wore a mischievous grin. “It’s some necromancy humour.”  
  
“It’s not funny,” Gavin said, his voice slightly hysteric.  
  
“Noted, my apologies.” Connor’s smile faded. He closed his eyes.  
  
The shadows did shift in the room, they were a little too long for the amount of light in the room. Gavin watched as magic, dark swirled like smoke around Connor’s hands threading through fingers, licking up his wrist.  
  
Connor thrashed his head to the side, his arms vibrating, his grip tightening around the eyeballs.  
  
The door behind him opened, and Gavin whipped around. “Get out.”  
  
Elijah Kamski- the precinct’s coroner stood there in pristine white lab coat, and some leafy vegan bullshit in hand. They were related, cousins on their mother’s side. Close as children, distant as teenagers, and in a weird place as adults. “I work here.” He shifted to see around Gavin. “Necromancer?” Elijah had always had a strange fascination with witches.  
  
Gavin felt overwhelmingly protective of Connor, the sharp urge to get Elijah out of the room while Connor was vulnerable. “Get out, this is for a case and I’m sure he doesn’t want other people around.”  
  
“Some of us have work to do,” Elijah replied, but he’d never been unreasonable. “Text me when I get my morgue back.” He left the same way he’d come in.  
  
Gavin turned back to Connor who looked like he’d seized, his head pressing into the chair, back arched, face contorted in terror. The desire to reach out nearly overwhelmed him, but he couldn’t be certain what his touch would do. Connor’s head snapped to the side, away from Gavin, so fast that Gavin wondered if Connor would feel it when he came out of it.  
  
Magic pulsed around Connor’s hands, smoke-like and fading into nothing. Connor jerked as though he’d awoken from a nightmare, dark brown eyes full of horrors. It was the first time Gavin had really considered the emotional toll on the necromancer. Connor stood on shaky legs. Every breath was harsh, and desperate. He dropped the eyeballs in a pan, and turned awkwardly toward the over-sized metal sink.  
  
“Hey, you good?” Gavin asked. It looked a lot like Connor might pass out, too pale, incapable of walking a straight line.  
  
Instead, Connor’s hands gripped the side of the sink, and he threw up.  
  
Gavin’s nose wrinkled. Connor apparently hadn’t had anything but that coffee because it was a lot of dry-heaving after that. Connor’s body arched in a way that looked painful as his stomach kept attempting to empty itself. After a minute the heaving stopped, and Connor ran his hand past the sensor, the water falling, and he started to vigorously scrub his hands.  
  
Gavin went to the small cooler, and grabbed one of the water bottles Elijah kept there. “Here.” He extended the bottle to Connor. “It might help.”  
  
Connor turned to look at him, too pale, sweat clinging to his brow, tremors running through his body. Hands wet, and a little shaky took the bottle.  
  
“Do you need to sit down?” Gavin asked.  
  
Connor took a sip, swished it around, and spat it in the sink. “I’ll be okay.” He took another small sip, then another, clearly testing to see if it would stay down.  
  
“That looked intense. Is your neck all right?”  
  
“My neck?”  
  
“Just… never mind,” Gavin said. “Did you get a good look at the perp?”  
  
Connor kept touching his chest, like he was physically reassuring himself that he hadn’t been stabbed, and it cut Gavin deep. He hadn’t really thought about what he’d been asking from Connor. “I’m sorry. It was so dark, and it happened so fast. I wouldn’t even be able to guess at ethnicity much less give a proper description.”  
  
All that money, the desecration of a corpse, the aftermath of Connor’s own magic- all that, for nothing.  
  
::  
  
His break in the case actually came from having a couple drinks with his old friend Tina Chen. She’d recently been promoted to detective, and transfered to the Eleventh precinct. She talked about a stabbing case she’d been put on, and it all sounded familiar; the stab wounds, the dumping grounds. Gavin slammed his hand on the desk. “Seven stab wounds? Serrated blade?”  
  
“Yeah,” she replied, shoving her beer to the side.  
  
“This might be connected to my case.” Gavin stood, grabbing his jacket. “I need to see that file.”  
  
They took a cab to the Eleventh, and Tina swiped her access pass, and held the gate for Gavin to get through. At her desk, she brought up all the information on her computer, including pictures of the victim.  
  
He grabbed the back of her chair, wheeling her out of the way despite her shouting; “Hey!”  
  
He took over the mouse, scrolling through the information. This victim; Liam Stone had little in common with Jonathan Whim; they lived in different parts of the city, Jonathan was the product of a trust fund, Liam worked full time at a grocery store and was the father of two children under the age of six. What they did have in common-  
  
“They look a little bit alike,” Tina said, wheeling up beside him.  
  
“Yeah.” While Jonathan was thirty-four, and Liam was thirty-six, they appeared the same age, squared jaw, slightly olive complexion, dark brown hair-  
  
Tina’s manicured fingernails dug slightly into his skin when she grabbed his jaw and turned his face toward her. “You kind of look like them.”  
  
He brushed her hand away. He extended the search parameters to be state-wide, looked for stab victims, particularly ones with seven wounds, serrated blade used. He got back another six results, cases being worked on in different precincts.  
  
“Shit.”  
  
Gavin stared at the computer screen full of victims, and couldn’t deny that the similarities of height, build, and facial features was disturbing. “I’m taking over this case.”  
  
“The hell you are-”  
  
“I have seniority, and I’ve been working this case longer than you, not to mention, I have a senator’s son on a slab in our morgue, and not catching this guy could literally end my career.”  
  
Tina frowned, then cursed. “Fine. But be careful. Looks like this guy is serial, and you’re just his type.”  
  
::  
  
Having all the new bodies didn’t actually help. According to the files, there was no more evidence at those crime scenes than there was at Jonathan Whim’s dump site. Gavin went into Fowler’s office with just his file, and determination. He shoved open the door without bothering to knock. “I need a minute, Captain-”  
  
“Knocking is a thing-”  
  
“Door wasn’t locked,” Gavin replied, walking over to the desk, and opening the file over top of what Fowler had been working on.  
  
“For the love of-” he trailed off as Gavin pushed the photos around so they were spread over the desk. “Holy shit.”  
  
“Eight victims, from all over the state. They were all stabbed seven times with the same blade.” Gavin jabbed his finger over Jonathan Whim. “It was never about the Senator’s son, he just fit the right physical profile.”  
  
“Anything else that they have in common?”  
  
“Just the physical. They went to different schools, lived in different neighbourhoods, scattered social classes. They lived entirely different lives.”  
  
“Who was the fir-”  
  
“First victim was Jason Brown,” Gavin said, already way ahead and, four coffees in despite it only being eight am. “He is the only one who was dumped with any kind of respect. Middle of a park, arms crossed over his chest.”  
  
“The killer-”  
  
“Gave a shit about him, yeah- everyone else was just a replacement-”  
  
“Stop interrupting me.”  
  
“Got it. Sorry.”  
  
Fowler looked at the pictures, studying each one. Every once and a while, he’d look up at Gavin, then back down to another photo. “Well, the killer certainly has a type.”  
  
“I think we have the best odds at getting something off the first vic,” Gavin said, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide the caffeine tremors.  
  
“The evidence was logged nearly eight months ago.”  
  
“The necromancer.”  
  
“Jason Brown was already buried.”  
  
“Exhume him? A fucking Ouija board! I don’t want to have to wait for another victim to build a case on this guy. We can’t just wait until he fucks up!”  
  
“I’ve heard of necromancers pulling spirits back to answer questions, but- you know it isn’t admissible-”  
  
“In a court of law, but-” He caught the unimpressed look the Captain was shooting him down with. “Sorry. Jason didn’t have family- I could try questioning his friends again.”  
  
“None of them knew anything-”  
  
“Might have been a secret relationship?”  
  
“Or a stalker. Jason Brown might not have even known his killer.”  
  
Gavin cursed. “I’m going to talk to Connor-”  
  
“Oh, it’s Connor now?”  
  
“Now who is interrupting,” Gavin said, grabbing all the pictures, and stuffing them back into the file. “Maybe he has some idea of how to get information off of Brown.” He didn’t wait for permission, just left as abruptly as he’d entered.


	2. Chapter 2

The Stern house looked different under the midday sun. The gardens were bright and welcoming. The house was old, but charming, and the additions spoke of growth and prosperity. Gavin unlatched the gate, and walked through. The cobblestone path led the way up to the stairs, and he reached out to knock, only for the door to open, a flushed Connor grabbed his arm, and dragged him back down the stairs.  
  
“What the fuck-”  
  
“You can’t be here,” Connor said, dragging him along the cobblestone, his long strides making Gavin nearly jog to keep up.  
  
“I need your help.”  
  
“I’ve already fulfilled my end of the agreement, contract closed.” Connor dragged him past the sprawling flowerbeds, never breaking stride.  
  
Gavin twisted his arm free, and stood his ground. “Listen-”  
  
“No, you listen. House Mother has returned, and you’re trespassing,” Connor grabbed Gavin’s wrist again, and this time Gavin allowed himself to be dragged the rest of the way to the gate.    
  
“Connor, please-”  
  
Connor pressed against his chest, pushing him to the other side of the gate. “Don’t come back.”  
  
Furious, and nearly out of moves, Gavin pulled a thumb-drive from his pocket and threw it over the gate. Connor instinctively caught it. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”  
  
Back in his car, he saw Connor staring into his open palm at the silver drive. He’d open it. He had to.  
  
::  
  
Connor returned to the house with a handful of basil leaves, and paused as Amanda came down the hall wearing a pristine white suit with a gold broach. “What were you doing outside? We have much to discuss.”  
  
The thumb-drive practically burned inside his pocket. He opened his hand a little to display the leaves. “I’m going to talk Noah into making pomodoro pasta, since it’s your favourite. I thought you might enjoy it on your first night back.”  
  
“Always so thoughtful.” She kissed his forehead. “My office when you’re done.”  
  
He waited a moment as she walked away from him. He didn’t have much option now, and turned down the hall that lead to Noah’s room. There were shadows leaking out from under his door. Connor knocked. “It’s me, Connor.”  
  
Noah opened the door, shoulders hunched, eyes barely open. Shadows shifting this way and that. “What?”  
  
Connor sighed, grabbed his little brother by the back of the neck and pulled him down to his shoulder. His own magic slid over Noah’s skin, burrowed in, and tampered the overwhelming power.  
  
“’M tired, Con.”  
  
“I know,” he whispered. “I’ll help you sleep tonight, I promise.”  
  
“Amanda says I have to hold out longer,” Noah pulled back. He flinched to the left as if trying to physically get away from something.  
  
“What you need is sleep.” It said something about the levels of Noah’s exhaustion that he didn’t bother arguing further. Connor sighed, he hated to ask. “I need your help.”  
  
Noah nodded. “What do you need.”  
  
“For you to cook Amanda’s favourite.”  
  
“Buttering her up for something?”  
  
“Detective Reed came back.”  
  
“Here?”  
  
“Here.”  
  
“Did she see him?”  
  
“Would we be having this conversation right now if she had?”  
  
Noah crossed his arms, nodded. “Why did he return?”  
  
“Something to do with the case I consulted on, I think. He gave me a thumb drive and I have no idea what is on it. I can’t check it right now, Amanda wants to discuss something-”  
  
“Go. I’ll take care of dinner.”  
  
“Are you sure you’re okay?”  
  
“I’ll get Rhys to help.”  
  
“He’s at work.”  
  
Noah blinked, glanced at the clock. He’d always had the worst sense of time. “Oh.”  
  
“Are you going to be okay?”  
  
Noah scratched at the back of his head. “I’ll have it ready by six.”  
  
Connor didn’t like leaving his brother in such a state, but had little choice in the matter. While Connor was considered the most powerful of the brothers, Noah had the most raw power- unfortunately, his power was overwhelming, stronger than he could control most of the time. He needed Connor to push it back down- or better yet, Amanda could subdue the power for days.  
  
It was why they stayed.  
  
Connor couldn’t yet do for his brother what Amanda could. No other coven would risk having that much power under their roof.  
  
Amanda’s office had a mahogany desk, an antique vase full of red roses. There were books everywhere, but Connor knew the grimoires hidden away in a safe. The drapes were wide open letting the room bathe in natural light. Sage incense burned, the scent familiar, and soothing.  
  
“Anything to note while I was away?” Amanda asked, directly to business before he’d even sat down.  
  
“Nothing of interest,” Connor said. While he was permitted to use his abilities for profit, it was expected that fifty-percent of it went into the coven’s account. The money went toward the upkeep of the house, food for the larger gatherings and festivities, rare books and the like. Connor kept his face blank. It was unlikely that Amanda knew he’d taken work in her absence, and considering how little she liked working with ‘plain-bloods’ it was unlikely that she would find out. “How was your visit with the Irving Coven?”  
  
“Beneficial.” Amanda sat back in her chair. “They’ve put me in contact with Leo Manfred, he in turn has ensured I will be able to have a meeting with Carl Manfred.” They were notable in the community for their abilities in charm work, but Amanda thus far had avoided telling Connor just what she wanted out of the Manfred coven. While those who held the name were hydromancers, the rest of the coven was a collection of abilities and ranges.  
  
He suspected that there was a specific someone in the Manfred coven she wanted to convert. He’d heard that they’d recently brought a necromancer into their fold.  
  
“His health has taken a turn for the worse,” Connor said. It burdened him, the shroud of death he’d seen over the vibrant old man during the Ostara festivities.  
  
“Which is why I want to speak to him,” Amanda said. “Leo likes to pretend he is in control but that coven will fall apart when Carl dies.”  
  
The Manfred coven was relatively small, and the realization hit Connor like a heavy weight to his chest, shoving the breath from him. “You’re planing a merge.”  
  
“Carl will see reason,” Amanda said. “He might not want his coven to disappear, but he can’t actually expect Leo to take the reigns. The boy doesn’t have the intelligence much less the power.” She checked her watch. “Dinner is at six.”  
  
“Yes, as always,” Connor replied.  
  
“Good. I have to step out for a few hours,” Amanda stood and grabbed her handbag. “Make plans for the rest of the coven to come in on Sunday.”  
  
“The full moon is on Saturday, it might be better,” Connor stated.  
  
She checked the charts on her desk, and smiled softly. “It appears you are correct. Saturday then.”  
  
“I’ll call the others.”  
  
He felt her magic when she let her hand drag over his shoulder as she passed. Magic a soft fog, barely visible, but it always left him ice cold. He stood, and followed her out, closing the door behind himself. He heard the automatic lock click into place. He followed a step behind her down the hall and into the grand entranceway.  
  
Rhys was taking off his shoes, but upon spotting Amanda, he straightened out, lips curved in a well practiced fake smile. “Amanda, welcome home.”  
  
She greeted him with a hug. “It is good to be home.”  
  
Connor could see that fog-like magic working it’s way over Rhys’s shoulders. She released him, and walked out the door, her stilettos clicking as she walked away. Connor waited a moment before shutting the door.  
  
Rhys being the weakest of the siblings felt her interference the most. He was physically shivering as he kicked his other shoe off.  
  
“You okay?” Connor asked.  
  
“Hate that ice queen bitch,” Rhys muttered.  
  
“Just a while longer,” Connor said. As he had for years, and years.  
  
Rhys nodded. He never made much of a fuss about it. He knew why they were there.  
  
“I need to look at something,” Connor said, pulling the thumb drive out of his pocket. “Can you check in on Noah?”  
  
“What’s on it?” Rhys said, curiosity piqued.  
  
“I don’t know. Detective Reed brought it.”  
  
“I honestly don’t know if he’s brave, or stupid.”  
  
“Determined,” Connor said, turning toward the hall. Rhys followed, all their bedrooms were clustered at the end of the hall. He turned into his room as Rhys knocked on Noah’s door.  
  
Connor left his door open in case he was needed, and sat at his desk. The silver drive in hand, he flipped it over, thumb brushing over the smooth surface before he plugged it into his laptop.  
  
Case files. Technically he was a consultant, but he still didn’t think Gavin was supposed to give him these. There had been more victims, going back months- that’s why Gavin had come to him in a fools errand. Eight victims. There was a serial killer in the state of Michigan.  
  
He tried to ignore the similarities of the men. Tried to ignore the similarities to Gavin. A seance might work, those who died violently tended to be more willing to speak.  Still, the deceased was just as likely to ignore Connor completely, or refuse to answer.  
  
He safe-ejected the thumb drive, and put it inside a jar inside the top drawer of his desk. He could return it tomorrow. It wasn’t urgent. The dead men weren’t going anywhere. Amanda was a bigger problem. He had calls to make, a dinner to get through, and he would need his magic to help put Noah back in control of his. He’d return the thumb drive later, and wash his hands of this whole mess. It wasn’t his responsibility.  
  
He thought of the similarities between the victims and Gavin, and shut his laptop with a little more force than necessary.  
  
It wasn’t his problem.  
  
_It wasn’t._  
  
::  
  
Connor had intended on getting to the precinct bright and early. Instead, Amanda took up most of his morning. Another of their coven arrived, with plans to stay through to the weekend festivities. Svana held an air of grace about her, but she was every bit as powerful as Connor, and bitter that he’d been chosen as Amanda’s apprentice over her. She found a good deal of joy in letting her power seep out, knowing it affected Noah, and in turn, infuriated Connor. He spent most of the day doing his best to keep himself between Svana and his brother.  
  
Rhys returned home from work in the afternoon, and that made it easier. While Svana was thrilled with getting under Connor’s skin, there was no one who could infuriated her faster than Rhys ever since that incident eight years ago involving a bag of snakes.  
  
“Svana,” Rhys smiled with false cheer. “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but our dear House Mother says I should lie less.”  
  
“Rhys, still an absolute worm, I see.”  
  
“A worm?” He hummed. “Worms, that gives me ideas.”  
  
She glared at him. “If I find anything in my room, I’ll-”  
  
“What? What will you do, Svana?” Rhys taunted.  
  
“That’s enough,” Connor said, not wanting Rhys to take things too far. “Amanda wouldn’t be pleased with these arguments.” He turned to his brothers. “I need to pick up the dry cleaning, and some of the groceries for Saturday’s dinner party. I’ll need extra hands.”  
  
“Yes, do go off and do your chores,” Svana said.  
  
“This is why I was chosen as apprentice, I’m useful,” the ‘you’re not’ was left unsaid, but clearly received.  
  
He could feel her, the magic pulsing. He pushed back, the room darkening under the wave of of his magic. “Don’t test me, Svana. I’m still the apprentice. Who do you think House Mother will side with? She’s chosen me over you time, and time again.”  
  
She didn’t back off, anger building, her magic a poisonous green.  
  
“Enough!” Noah shouted, his magic flaring every bit as dark as Connor’s own, moving like vicious claws ripping from the walls.  
  
Svana screamed and jerked back, her concentration gone. Her lip curled as she glared at Noah. “Still as out of control as ever, Nines.” With the last word in, she turned heel, and left them alone.  
  
Rhys looked ready to throw hands, but Noah grabbed his brother by the wrist, and kept him at his side. “Not worth it,” Noah said. Shadows still crept along the wall, clawing reaching out but not solid- not yet. “Connor?”  
  
Connor walked around his little brother, placed his hands upon Noah’s temples, and pressed, his own magic flowing over, burrowing in, entangling and pulling Noah’s power back under control. It was still there, still violently ready to lash out.  
  
Noah needed sleep, he had more control then, but the dead flocked to him like a beacon, and had a habit of keeping him awake. More than that, his brother was so overpowered that he had difficulty telling the dead from the living. In their younger years, Noah often crawled into bed with one of his brothers telling them that an old woman broke into his room, or a child wanted to play and wouldn’t leave him alone. He wasn’t as scared by it now, but it didn’t stop it from being a nuisance when he didn’t have the ability to control his sight.  
  
“You up for a drive?”  
  
“I’m not going in the grocery store,” Noah muttered.  
  
“Okay, that’s fine. I just need you to help me carry bags into the house.”  
  
Noah smiled a little at that. “You could do multiple trips.”  
  
“Why, when I have multiple brothers?”  
  
“Why the hell do I have to go?” Rhys complained. “I literally just got home.”  
  
Connor glared at his twin. “Because I said so.”  
  
“This is bullshit,” Rhys said, but he opened the door, and stormed out.  
  
It took hours to run all the errands. Noah had his head resting against the window, staring blankly. Rhys spent most of the time in the car looking out for their younger brother while Connor ran into the store. New linens for the table, light greens and soft yellows, similar to those used at the Ostara festivities, bringing in Spring. He had to restock the liquor cabinet- a few added bottles of Rhys favourite red wine. Groceries took the longest, even though he was working from a list. By the time he had the back of the SUV stuffed with everything they needed, it was nearly three in the afternoon.  
  
“One more stop,” Connor said, pulling out of the parking spot.  
  
“Come on!” Rhys groaned.  
  
Connor checked his rear-view mirror, Noah a little more alert, but still staring out the window. “It’ll be quick.”  
  
“I’m hungry,” Noah complained.  
  
“Yeah, drive through!” Rhys said.  
  
“Guys-”  
  
“Drive through!” Noah chimed in, a soft smile on his face.  
  
“Burger and fries!” Rhys started chanting, Noah cheerfully joining in. “Burger and fries! Burger and fries!”  
  
“Can you both be adults for two damn minutes,” Connor said, trying to keep the smile off his face and failing.  
  
“With a milkshake!” Noah added.  
  
“Burgers, fries, and milkshakes!” Rhys pointed. “Drive through, come on!”  
  
“You guys are the literal children,” he said, two fingers hitting the blinker.  
  
“Yes!” Rhys and Noah both shouted.  
  
“Does this mean you’ll also get us the little toys?” Rhys asked. Connor smirked. That was how both Rhys and Noah ended up with a kids meal, and milkshakes.  
  
“You’re an asshole, Con,” Rhys said, his one bite taking a quarter of the kid-sized burger.  
  
“I gave you what you wanted,” Connor replied, pulling into the Central precinct. He took a sip of his vanilla shake and put it back in the cup holder- honestly a little concerned about leaving it unattended. “I’ll be right back. I just need to get that thumb drive back to Detective Reed.”  
  
“If you’re not back in ten, I’m taking your milkshake,” Noah said.  
  
Connor shrugged. “Fair.” He then slipped out the door.  
  
Inside the precinct was louder than he expected. The last time he’d been there, it had been rather subdued. He went to the reception desk. “Excuse me, I need to speak to Detective Gavin Reed.”  
  
The pretty brunette glanced up at him. “Oh, um, I’m afraid he’s not in right now.”  
  
“Is it possible to get his business card?” Typically officers handed them out, but it either slipped Gavin’s mind, or he hadn’t though Connor would be able to give him anything useful.  
  
The receptionist looked around nervously, and then all of a sudden relieved. “Captain Fowler!”  
  
The captain of the central precinct appeared haggard, but strode over to them like a man on a mission. “Mr. Arkay, what brings you here?”  
  
It wasn’t the first time someone had spoken to him with fear in their voice, but it seemed out of place from the Captain. “I was actually hoping to speak to Detective Reed.”  
  
Fowler stood a little straighter at that. “You’re not the only one.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Connor asked, but he had a sinking suspicion.  
  
“Let’s speak of this in my office.” Fowler turned around, and led the way, Connor finding his concern building with each step. Inside the glass office, the noise level dimmed to a low hum. “Reed went to speak to you yesterday,” Fowler said, not wasting any time with formalities. “Did you see him?”  
  
“Yes. Briefly.”  
  
“What did you two talk about?”  
  
“Am I being interrogated?”  
  
“Reed is missing. When he left, he was going to meet with you, and he never returned. I was on my way out to speak with you. His life could be in jeopardy, so keep that in mind.”  
  
“He wanted my help on a case,” Connor said. “Apparently there were new leads, older bodies.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And I’m no longer in a position to assist,” Connor replied cooly. He needed to leave, before he said something that got Gavin into trouble, or before his own building panic manifested.  
  
“Did he say anything about where he was going when he left?”  
  
“No. I would assume either a crime scene, or back to the precinct. He’s a dedicated officer.”  
  
Fowler nodded. “Thank you for your time.” He actually pulled out a business card, and handed it over. “If you think of anything-”  
  
“I’ll let you know,” Connor replied, putting it in his pocket along with the thumb drive. When Fowler led him back through the bullpen, Connor saw the name plaque on the desk. DET. GAVIN REED. His eyes roamed over the desk, a little potted cactus, some paper clips, pen caps that had been chewed flat. He grabbed one of the pen caps on his way by, tucking it into the pocket of his pants- praying to the Goddess it would be enough.  
  
By the time he returned to the car, Rhys was singing along with some eighties rock-ballad, and Noah had two milkshakes in hand, both straws in his mouth- his chocolate, and Connor’s vanilla.  
  
Noah nearly dropped the drinks, and there was a curse from the backseat. “You hurt?” Connor knew then that his energy was broadcasting his emotions. Rhys might be nearly blind to it, but Noah wasn’t.  
  
Rhys stopped singing at that, and turned to his brother. “What?”  
  
“Conno-”  
  
“I need to do something,” Connor said. “You two should go home.”  
  
“Oh shit,” Rhys whispered. “What the hell happened in there?”  
  
Connor’s grip on the steering wheel bled his knuckles white. “The case I consulted on, it turns out that the murder is… a serial killer. That’s what was on the drive, the case files on the other victims. They all have a strong physical resemblance.” He rested his head against the wheel. “Detective Reed is missing,” Connor said, the words heavy on his tongue. “And he fits the victim profile.”  
  
“You want to track him,” Rhys said raising a brow.  
  
“I took a chewed pen cap from his desk.”  
  
“Saliva,” Rhys muttered, always one to catch on quick. He tapped his fingers on the dash. “It’s only a little illegal, and it’s basically impossible to prove.”  
  
“I need a map,” Connor said.  
  
A quick stop at a park, and a map courtesy of the tourism hut gave them everything they needed. A lot of magic was simply intent. Connor held the map with one hand, the pen cap in the other. The SUV gave him some cover from the prying eyes of the plain-bloods. He pictured Gavin, the stubble on his face, the scar across the bridge of his nose, his aura the first time they met versus the last time they saw each other, the kindness hidden behind a rough exterior.    
  
He’d ignored his own fear of witches, and asked Connor for help.  
  
He’d put his faith in Connor by giving him the thumb drive.  
  
And what had Connor done? Tossed it in his drawer to be dealt with at another time. And what had happened to Gavin?  
  
_Gavin._  
  
_Detective Gavin Reed._  
  
“Looks industrial,” Rhys said softly.  
  
Connor opened his eyes. His magic had eaten it’s way along the paper, seeking the detective out, leaving a small section free from being dark and brittle.  
  
“I’ll drop you two off,” Connor said, hoping they wouldn’t argue.  
  
“The hell you will,” Rhys snapped. “You’re not doing this alone.”  
  
Both twins turned in their seat to look back at Noah, who still held his two milkshakes. “Neither of you can physically drag me out of here so, drive, bitch,” he said, sipping both at the same time.  
  
“You heard him,” Rhys said, sitting properly in his seat once more, gently taking the map. “Drive, bitch.”


	3. Chapter 3

The industrial area was mostly factories, but it appeared the entire area had been re-zoned for residential considering the notices on the buildings, big posters of condos that would soon stand in their place.   
  
“We’re close,” Noah said from the back seat.   
  
It chilled Connor. Noah hadn’t asked to see the map, which meant he could either see or feel something that gave the location away to him. Another two minutes of driving, and Connor could feel it too. Recent darkness and death lingered here, called to him.   
  
Rhys pointed at a building. “It’s that one.” Noah unclipped his seatbelt, and Rhys turned in his seat. “You’re staying in the car.”   
  
“Consider, which one of us is better back-up for Connor?” Noah asked, shoving open his door, and stepping out before Rhys could reply.   
  
“Little shit,” Rhys muttered, but exited the vehicle.   
  
Connor stepped out, pocketed the keys. The sun was beginning to set, casting orange glows, and long shadows over the pavement. He looked at his brothers, then took the lead. Down an alleyway, they found a busted window, and Connor took off his jacket to put over the jagged edges along the bottom sill to keep them from getting cut as they climbed in. Once inside, he shook out little shards of glass, and put the jacket back on.   
  
They’d come into what had likely been an office, but everything had been removed. Rhys went to the door, and opened it slowly- a large open area, but with pieces of old conveyor-belts, and industrial machines. Their shoes sounded far too loud in the echoing space.   
  
Connor’s heart was beating a mile a minute. There was no evidence of anything. A fine layer of dust over the floor and the machinery, and didn’t look like it had been disturbed by much except for rodents.   
  
Rhys touched his arm, then pointed to a door at the end. Connor nodded, and the three of them made their way over to the door. It led into another section, different equipment. He could hear something whistling, he looked around and spotted a window just slightly cracked, the wind whistling through the opening. More troublesome, it drew his attention to the little red marks on the floor- drops of blood.   
  
Noah pulled away from them a step, and the tension released from his posture. “Detective Reed,” he whispered, “come on, we need to go.”   
  
Connor’s breath stuttered out of his body. “No.” There was no one there. No one he could see without pressing into his second sight. But Noah, Noah couldn’t turn the sight off. If Noah could see Gavin, then Gavin was dead. He sucked in a breath, shook his head. “No.”   
  
“Fuck,” Rhys grabbed Connor’s arm, grip tight. “Con, we need to go.”   
  
Connor shook his head. “I can’t, I can’t just leave him here!”   
  
Rhys’s grip tightened. “He’s dead.”   
  
“Gavin says that the killer just went to retrieve tarps from a store,” Noah said.   
  
“Then we really need to go,” Rhys said grabbing Noah too, tugging them back. “The dead have no sense of time, the killer could be back any second.”   
  
“Rhys!” Connor jerked out of his brother’s hold even as his magic flared. It didn’t hurt his brother, never would. Connor was well in control. “Gavin came to me for help! I’m not leaving him here. Take Noah. Go back to the car, if I’m not out in-”  
  
“Fuck off,” Rhys snapped. Teeth ground together. “Goddess preserve our dumb asses.” He turned to Noah. “Go to the car.”   
  
“We’re a packaged deal, remember,” Noah said.   
  
Connor nodded. That’s what the three of them had always been. He’d waste too much time arguing with them. “Okay, but we have to be quick.”   
  
Noah turned to the empty space. “Lead the way.”   
  
Connor kept close to his little brother, and felt Noah jump when the delivery door behind them started opening. Connor found himself pushed from behind- Rhys- shoving all of them into the stairwell, nearly falling down in their haste. “Shit,” Rhys had closed the door behind them. “Is there another way out of here?”   
  
Noah glanced to the side, then shook his head. “Gavin doesn’t think so.”  
  
“Fuck, get down the stairs, we can… we can hide or something,” Rhys said, pushing them into action.   
  
It didn’t last long. Connor froze at the bottom of the stairs. Gavin’s lifeless form was on a metal slab, skin had gone ashy, lips blue. There was so much blood, but he’d bet there were seven stab wounds, just like all the other victims.   
  
His stomach twisted, and his fingertips felt numb. “Gavin,” he whispered, reaching out to the physical form, only to have Noah grab him, and pull him to the side, hiding under the stairs. It was a terrible hiding place, but the sub-basement was little more than a tiny room.   
  
The three of them were shoulder to shoulder, tucked just under the stairs as the door above them opened.   
  
The man was whistling, a happy little tune.   
  
Connor could feel his magic reacting to his anger, his fear, the violent need to keep his brothers safe. He felt Rhys swat him in the back of the head, a reminder to keep it in check, but while he’d been playing by the rules, the Detective who’d asked him for help had been brutally murdered, alone in a basement.   
  
_It’s my fault_ , the thought swirled, and with it, so did his magic.   
  
The man was on the tall side, built with wide shoulders- much like Noah. Hair just to the side of blond. High cheekbones, a bruised eye, scratches on his face- Gavin had put up a fight, trying to stay alive. A battle he lost. Died violently, just like his mother had.   
  
Dead.   
  
Dead.   
  
_Dead._   
  
“Close,” the man said, touching Gavin’s face, trailing his fingertips along the stubble. “But you’re not him.”   
  
Connor’s iron clad control slipped, and nothing his brothers could do could stop him. He stepped out of the shadows, yet they clung to him still.   
  
He grabbed the man by the back of the neck, and pushed his magic in, the man vibrating in the hold, but incapable of moving. “Do you know why everyone fears a Necromancer?” Connor asked, his rage building. “We can choose who lives,” he glanced at Gavin, “and who dies,” he tightened his hold.   
  
“Connor, stop!” Rhys said, wide eyed across the table. Connor hadn’t even notice his brother run to the other side. “Connor! We do not play judge, jury, and executioner! We do not play God. We do _not_ decide who lives and dies!”   
  
“You think the life of a serial killer is worth Gavin’s life?” Connor pushed more of his magic in. It wasn’t like when he did it with Noah, their magic akin to one another, interacting with each other. Instead, he infected a plain-blood with his pure malicious intent.   
  
Rhys frowned, but didn’t actively move to stop him. “You sure you can live with that, Con?”   
  
Connor looked down at the Detective, and in the corner of his eye, his sight must have activated with the flood of magic, and he could see a blurred figure- Gavin. He quickly grabbed the knife from the table, and jammed it under the man’s ribcage. “I can.” He pulled the knife out, allowing the blood to run free. Dropping the knife, he pressed his blood covered hand over Gavin’s chest. He could feel the life force slipping from the man, running through him, and into Gavin. The chest wounds were healing, skin coming together under the drying blood.   
  
The man dropped lifeless from Connor’s grip. Gavin sucked in a long breath, jerking on the table. He coughed like he was choking on something. Spat out blackened blood, with his airway free again, he panted like he’d run a marathon. His eyes met Connor’s, then looked down at the body, then to Noah. “I told you to tell him not to.”   
  
Noah shrugged. “I happened to agree that your life was worth more than his.”   
  
Connor had never felt exhaustion so complete, or so sudden. One moment he’d been riding a high of power, of life, of death, and the next he found himself in Noah’s arms and on the floor.   
  
“-ell is wrong with him?” Gavin was asking Rhys.   
  
“Magic takes up energy, shifts it,” Rhys said. “Noah?”   
  
Noah’s pupils were blown with the sight, darkening the grey tones. “Amanda is definitely going to notice.”   
  
“Fuck!” Rhys looked at Gavin, then met Connor’s eyes. “If Amanda finds out-”   
  
“He saved my life,” Gavin said, a soft smile.   
  
“At a cost,” Rhys snapped. “Necromancers don’t just bring people back from the dead, there is a balance to things. Your life came at the price of his,” Rhys pointed to the dead man on the floor. “And a fuck-ton of magic! It’s against the law- all laws- it’s still considered murder- and it’s punished by execution so just-” he paced a few steps, “everyone shut up and let me think!”   
  
“Amanda wouldn’t turn him in, he’s her apprentice,” Noah said. Then looked up at Gavin. “You can’t turn Connor in. It’s a death sentence.”   
  
Gavin muttered a curse, weakly sat up on the table.   
  
“Amanda would hold it over his head, hold it over all of us,” Rhys said. “We can’t let her have that kind of power.”   
  
“You know what you need to do,” Connor said, eyes shifting to one of the cleaner looking knives on the table.   
  
“No!” Noah said, holding Connor a little tighter.   
  
Rhys frowned, but grabbed a knife.   
  
“Woah, hold up!” Gavin reached for Rhys, but still was weakened, and missed entirely. “No, no, no, no, no what the fuck are you doing?”   
  
“Magic always tries to protect it’s host,” Connor explained. “If I were injured, then it would explain the severe depletion of magic.”   
  
Rhys grip tightened and loosened. “Or that legitimate severe depletion will be the reason why you can’t hold on-”  
  
“If it heals him, why don’t we just say he got stabbed and not stab him,” Gavin held his head in his hands. “How is any of this happening?”   
  
“Magic doesn’t actually heal us,” Noah said. “At best it can sustain us until we can get medical assistance.”   
  
“This is insanity!” Gavin shook his head. “Just, fuck off for a few days and let your mojo restock or whatever.”   
  
“We are all tied to the House Mother,” Connor said, struggling to keep his eyes open. “She probably already felt what I did-”   
  
Rhys blew out a long, measured breath. Turned the knife over in his hand. “Noah, make sure I don’t hit anything vital.”   
  
Noah nodded.  
  
“How in the fuck?” Gavin was still weak, tired, given his slow movements.   
  
Rhys grabbed Gavin by the shoulder before he toppled off the table. “Okay, listen up because this is the story we’re all telling, don’t fuck it up. We’ll cop to the tracking spell, it’s a little illegal- but only if you press charges-”  
  
“I won’t.”   
  
“Good. Now we’ll say we heard you screaming. Rushed in. Connor wrestled with the guy, ended up stabbed. He managed to get hold of a knife. He fought back in self-defense. Got it?”   
  
“Connor tried to help me, got stabbed, got his hands on the knife, fought back, stabbed that asshole in self-defense.”   
  
“Good job, Detective,” Rhys said.  
  
“What about all the blood?” Gavin looked down at himself, touching where holes in his chest had been, but now there was nothing but dried blood.   
  
“Find a shirt to put on or something to wipe off with at least. And as for the rest of the evidence… well, we’re going to burn this place down.” Rhys turned away from Gavin, and crouched down in front of Connor, pointing the knife at his twins chest. “Real sorry about this, Con.”   
  
“Zero to Sixty strikes again,” Connor replied with the fond nickname.   
  
“This is a little more zero to a hundred.” Rhys held out a hand, and Connor took it. He knew his twin wasn’t happy with the plan, but it was their best odds. They couldn’t afford to let Amanda have something like this to hold over them. Their lives would be forever hers, and their dreams of escaping would be over.   
  
Rhys moved the knife around, slow, back and forth. “There,” Noah said. “He’s not in a death shroud if you stab him there.”   
  
“Wow, that fills me with confidence,” Rhys muttered, his grip on Connor’s hand tightening.   
  
“It’s okay, Rhys.” Connor looked his twin in the eye, and nodded. “Do it.”   
  
“What a fucking shitshow,” Rhys muttered, before jamming the blade home.   
  
Between the excruciating pain, and the magical exhaustion, Connor’s vision danced with white spots, spreading further into a blinding light-   
  
::  
  
He awoke in an ambulance. Gavin was holding his hand on one side, two paramedics on the other. Outside of the still open doors he saw a building burning, could smell the smoke, heard the sirens, and the firefighters yelling at each other. The doors both shut, the sound muffled.  
  
He tried to tighten his grip on Gavin’s hand, but his hand hardly cooperated. “Where are my brothers?”   
  
“Don’t worry, they got out just fine,” Gavin assured. “Your, uh, House Mother? Amanda, she arrived shortly after emergency services arrived on scene, your brothers are with her.”   
  
That was good. Amanda would protect them as much as a lawyer would, keep them from too many questions. Rhys would do anything to ensure that Noah wouldn’t be implicated in any way. Noah would watch out for Rhys, make sure he wouldn’t go off the rails. His brothers would hold it together.   
  
Connor felt both hot, and cold. His hand in Gavin’s felt like the only thing holding him together, and tethered to his body. He could feel the flickers of his magic, the paramedics jumping back a little, fearful to interact.   
  
“Connor?” The gentle swipe of Gavin’s thumb along the back of his knuckles caught his attention, and he slowly turned his head toward the Detective. “Thank you.”   
  
There was blood on his hands, but there was also a bright light holding onto him, Gavin’s aura lighter than he’d ever seen it, soft, and warm-  
  
::  
  
Connor awoke to Rhys sitting in a chair beside his hospital bed, head tipped back, snoring. “Rhys?” His twin didn’t wake, and Connor’s dry throat wasn’t fond of speaking. He dipped his fingers into the water glass next to his bed, and flicked it at Rhys.  
  
Rhys jolted in his seat, wiped the water from his face, then glared at Connor. The look almost immediately softened, and he stood. “How are you feeling?”   
  
“Floaty.” He glanced down at the IV. “What do they have me on?”   
  
Rhys shrugged. “I don’t know. Painkillers. Good ones considering you got stabbed.”   
  
“I can’t… I can’t feel-”  
  
Rhys shushed him softly, brushing some of his hair back. “You know that things like painkillers and alcohol have adverse affects on magic.” He took Connor’s hand, squeezing just a little. “You’re going to be fine. You’ll be able to feel it again when the drugs are out of your system.”   
  
“Noah?”   
  
“With Amanda,” Rhys replied. Connor’s heart-monitor quickened, and Rhys shot it a dark look. “He’s fine.”   
  
“You should be with him.”   
  
“No, you should be, but-” he shot a look at the door. “Just, get some rest Connor. Everything is under control.”   
  
“I’m tired,” Connor confessed.   
  
“I know.”  
  
“Gavin?”   
  
“He’s fine.” Rhys nodded his head slightly, a little Bonsai tree in a decorative bold blue bowl. “Brought that as a ‘get well soon’ present.”   
  
Connor stared at the tree until it blurred. The pull of the drugs too strong, he blinked, blinked again, and slipped away.   
  
::  
  
Inside of the Captain’s office, Fowler put a file down beside Gavin’s coffee. “We had the detectives who’d been primary on the other cases work double time while you were missing.”   
  
Gavin reached out and opened it. The picture of the man who’d murdered him- who’d murdered all those men stared back up at him. His fingertips shook, and he shut the folder, and grabbed the coffee, hoping to hide his shaking hands. “Give me the short version.”   
  
“Detective in charge of the investigation of the murder of the Jason Brown dug into the his financial records. Brown paid two dinners and drinks at an upscale restaurant the night he died. That isn’t new information, but if we assume that this man- Douglas Rittman- was the killer, then they were likely together, and it is likely that some fight happened that night, and Rittman was killing men who looked like Brown. Now that we have an identity, we can place Rittman in the area of each other murder with credit card purchases.” Fowler let out a heavy sigh. “Unfortunately, we can only place him in the area. It’s only circumstantial, and with the fire, we have nothing but your testimony and that of the Arkay brothers saying that Connor acted in self-defense.”   
  
“Because he did.” Gavin took a sip of coffee, trying to act natural while his skin felt like it was crawling. “I can keep looking into it-”   
  
“They’re cold cases now,” Fowler said. “I need you on this,” he said grabbing a file from the pile, and dropping it down in front of him. Gavin reached for it only for Fowler’s hand to press against the file, keeping it on the desk. “Seems there was an accelerant used in that fire.” Fowler paused a moment, staring at Gavin. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”   
  
“There was a lot of old shit down in that basement,” Gavin replied. “Wouldn’t be surprised if some of it was flammable.”   
  
“And no idea how it started?” The Captain’s face was unreadable.   
  
“I was a little busy with the trying not to die bit,” Gavin snapped. “That all?”   
  
“It is,” Fowler replied, releasing the case file.   
  
Gavin grabbed the new case, and tried to measure his paces to the door so it wouldn’t seem like he was running away. He almost missed it, as he opened the door. The little _’good to have you back, kid.’_  
  
::  
  
Gavin rubbed his eyes. They kept blurring as he stared at the computer screen for far too long. His exhaustion made his typing slow, but he wanted to get the report done so he wouldn’t have to come in on his day off.   
  
“You look like shit-”   
  
“I can’t even believe you’re here,” Gavin retorted to his partner, Lieutenant Hank Anderson. There was a time when he’d been thrilled about the opportunity to work with such a legend in the field, to learn from him. And then Cole died, and who the hero worship slowly, but steadily wore off.   
  
Hank sat down heavily in his seat, like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders alone. “You feeling okay?”   
  
Honestly? No. Gavin had been having nightmares for nearly two weeks- since he was murdered and brought back to life. He tried to forget in the waking hours, but the memories wouldn’t leave him be. “I’m fine.” He wanted a coffee, but he also wanted to be able to sleep, hopefully dreamlessly, tonight.   
  
“Go home. I’ll finish the report.”   
  
That was a first. Gavin looked up from the screen. “Why?”   
  
“You don’t look so great.” That was something coming from the functioning alcoholic. Hank grimaced. “You actually look like death, Reed.” At the mention of death, Gavin could vividly recall each stab of the knife into his chest, a few of them breaking through his ribs, into his lungs, choking on blood, trying to fight-  “Sure you’re not coming down with something?”   
  
“Might have a migraine coming on,” he lied.   
  
Hank nodded, as if accepted that possibility. “Get the fuck out of here.”   
  
“Thanks,” Gavin muttered. He grabbed his keys from the drawer of his desk, his jacket off the back of his chair, and walked out of the precinct.   
  
It was late in the evening, yet most of the parking lot was full- crime wasn’t 9-5. He walked to his car, got in, and started the engine. Traffic was mercifully light, and he got home in twenty four minutes.   
  
A figure was sitting outside of his apartment, a few steps closer, and he realized it was Connor. “Hey.”   
  
Connor’s head snapped up, and he returned to his feet carefully. “Hello, sorry about dropping by without warning.”   
  
Gavin raised a brow. “Should I ask how you got my address?”   
  
Connor just smiled. “I have my ways.” He then reached down and grabbed a large brown bag. “I brought some food, but I’m afraid it might be cold by now.”   
  
“I have a microwave,” Gavin replied. He walked by Connor, unlocked the door, and guided him inside.   
  
“How have you been?” Connor asked, toeing off his dress shoes.   
  
“I think I should be asking you that question, considering you were the one with a week long hospital stay.”   
  
“I’m alright, honestly the following week was worse,” Connor replied, but his hand instinctively went to where his brother had stabbed him. “Healing at the house, under Amanda’s care, Rhys trying to ensure I didn’t slip up and say something while on the drugs, other members of the coven coming in to see me, which was lovely in a way, but-” he sighed. “They are Amanda’s. Completely and utterly loyal to her.”   
  
Gavin pulled down some plates. “And that’s a problem?”   
  
“It is if you want to leave,” Connor stated.   
  
“And you want to leave.”   
  
Connor looked incredibly vulnerable as he nodded. “More than anything.”   
  
“Why are you with her then?” Gavin held out the box of fried rice, and Connor took it with a soft ‘thanks.’   
  
“In part, because of Noah.”   
  
Gavin raised a brow. He was surprised that Connor was so forthcoming, however, he supposed after all they’d been through together, they’d formed some kind of bond. His answer was a surprise though.   
  
Connor opened a box, seemed pleased by the noodle dish, and dumped a bunch of it onto his plate. “Do you have any knowledge of the witches power scale.”   
  
He wasn’t sure how that was relevant, but answered anyway. “It’s like a one-seven scale of power or something.” He was sure it was an oversimplification, but witches were a rather secretive bunch, and he’d hated them for so long that it wasn’t as though he was actively searching for information on them.   
  
“Yes. I’m a seven,” Connor said. “Rhys is a two, he’s considered underpowered. Noah, on the other hand is a nine.”   
  
“But you said-”  
  
“One to seven? Yes, you were correct. It’s _officially_ a one to seven scale. Seven is power, and control.”   
  
Gavin had no problem reading between the lines. “Noah can’t control it, can he?”   
  
“Not without assistance. I can suppress it for a time, but Amanda is the House Mother, she can draw power from any of us in her coven- Nines excluded- and use it as her own. Only like that can she out power Nines.”  
  
“So, if you don’t want to stay, what alternatives are there?” Gavin took Connor’s plate and stuck it in the microwave first.   
  
“If we broke away, had our own coven, things would be different.”   
  
“Then do it.”   
  
Connor laughed, a bitter, cold sound. “Don’t you think I would if I could? To break off we need a coven house, and a group of witches who swears their power to my use, with enough excess power for me to use to suppress Noah’s abilities. It’s a tall order.”   
  
Gavin crossed his arms, fingers tapping along his bicep. “Can it be any house?”  
  
“Pretty much. Technically, a bed for every member. Sigils of protection. Rituals to cleanse the land, but yes, any house.”   
  
“You don’t seem to be the kind of man without a plan.” The microwave interrupted, and Gavin passed Connor his plate.   
  
“There are some people that I believe I might be able to sway, and have them join me. But without a coven house it wouldn’t matter. Rhys and I have our usual jobs, and I pick up some extras-” he said wiggling his smoking fingers, “but a house at the size we need is expensive.”   
  
Gavin mulled the situation over in his mind for a bit. “I have a place. It’s a little out of the way. Inherited it, was my Grandmother’s. The colour scheme is horrible, and there are still plates on the wall- standard Grandma decor.”   
  
“I-what?”   
  
“You want a house?”   
  
Connor’s face was scrunched in such confusion, Gavin couldn’t help but smirk. “You can’t just give me a house!” Connor’s voice had pitched so high that Gavin grimaced.    
  
“Well, technically I have to sell it for something, but we can work it out.”   
  
“Gavin-”  
  
“You brought me back from the dead, Connor,” Gavin said. “I don’t want the house. Just… couldn’t get rid of it either. It’s where Mom grew up.” He shrugged. “It’s time for it to be… alive again.” He smirked. “You’re good at that, you know. Bringing things back to life.”   
  
Connor’s eyes widened marginally, and he chewed his bottom lip. Gavin found himself distracted by the action. “I’ll consider it.”   
  
Gavin waited out the timer on the microwave, grabbed his own plate. They sat across from one another at the small table. Gavin had more questions. “What about coven members?”   
  
Connor twirled his noodles around his fork. “There is a coven who will soon be leaderless-”   
  
“Sounds ominous.”   
  
“Their House Father is very ill. I’ve seen the death shroud over him. His time comes soon,” Connor said. “I’m friends with a few people in that coven, they’re mostly a respectable bunch. I’m sure a few of them would join me after, however Amanda wants to force a merge-”   
  
“Merge with them first, steal them out from under her.”   
  
Connor stared down at his plate, still for a long moment. Then he looked up. “Why are you trying to help me? Don’t say it’s because I brought you back from the dead, you repaid that by not telling anyone, I would have been executed, you’ve already spared my life-”   
  
“You’re a good person, Connor.” Gavin cut the man off before he could get further into the rant. “You… you try to do the right thing. From the moment you brought me out of the rain, and kept your crazy twin from killing me, to taking on the case in the first place, even knowing what it does to you. And you did save me.” He shrugged. “That can’t just be ignored.”   
  
Connor twirled his noodles around his fork, a soft smile on his face. “You’re a good person too.” He then blushed a deep red, and stared down at his food as though it had personally offended him.   
  
“Are you flirting with me Connor?” Gavin teased.   
  
“I could ask the same of you,” Connor muttered, stabbing at a piece of broccoli.   
  
Gavin floundered, and pushed some of the steamed veggies around. “Maybe I am.”   
  
Connor’s eyes finally met his, a soft smile curving his lips. “Well, maybe I am too.”   
  
“Okay then.” Gavin could feel his ears heat up, and knew they were burning bright red.   
  
“Okay then,” Connor repeated, smile growing as he returned to his meal.   
  
::  
  
It was a week later before they could finally get time together to go look at the house. Gavin had spent four days just looking for where he’d put the key for the front door. He hadn’t been there in years. He paid for someone to keep the lawn tidy, and it was nice to see that they’d actually been doing their job- it wasn’t as though Gavin had ever bothered to check.   
  
The summer weather had finally come rolling in, it left the grass looking brittle. “There’s no AC,” Gavin said.   
  
“That’s fine,” Connor replied. Even after being warned about how dusty, and what a mess it would be, Connor was still dressed in trousers, and light blue dress shirt. No suspenders, and Gavin couldn’t help but think that was a shame.   
  
Gavin unlocked the door, and took a step in. The entrance way was small, mostly empty. The floors were tile, and an old welcome mat was still left along with a pair of his Grandmother’s shoes. He walked into the kitchen, it had been upgraded shortly before her death, but was now outdated. “Probably need new appliances.”   
  
Connor turned on the stove top, waited a moment for the glass top to glow red. “Still works. We’ll keep what we can for now.”   
  
The living room was the worst. Soft pink walls, plates with birds on them. An old recliner with scratch marks from cats. A sectional that had seen better days. Most of the place had been emptied after she died, but there were things scattered around. Too big to be bothered dumping.   
  
“Are you okay?” Connor touched his elbow gently.   
  
“Yeah, why?”   
  
“Uh. Just- this must be a lot.”   
  
“You were doing that aura reading thing again, weren’t you?” Gavin asked, far more comfortable with it than he would have thought.   
  
“Sometimes I can’t help it,” Connor admitted softly.   
  
He stared at a spot off to the side of the living room where a wicker basket had once been, full of yarn, pattern books, and various knitting needles. “I used to get in trouble for taking her knitting needles and trying to sword fight my cousin Eli with them.”   
  
Connor laughed a little. “There was an older member of our coven when I was a child who knitted. I was constantly stealing her needles and using them as wands, because I’d seen it in a very inaccurate cartoon.” He shrugged. “I wanted that witch aesthetic.”   
  
Gavin smiled at that. “Come on,” he said, meaning to grab Connor’s wrist, but ending up with his hand in his. They both froze a moment, and he decided to roll with it, tugging gently as he took a step forward. “I’ll show you the rest of the house.”   
  
Connor interlaced their fingers, and Gavin’s heart dropped down to his stomach, and then launched back into place- it left him a little dizzy as he led them to the stairs leading up.   
  
On the upper level, there were four bedrooms, three which were large, one that was smaller and that had been used as an office. Two of the larger bedrooms had ensuite bathrooms, and there was another full bathroom off of the hall, along with a spacious linen closet.   
  
“Gav, I don’t think I’m going to be able to take this place.”   
  
“Why? If you think it isn’t big enough, there are another two bedrooms in the basement, another room used for her weird pottery collection, but once it’s moved out-” he stopped at the violent shaking of Connor’s head. “What is it?”   
  
“This place is so… spacious, it’s in surprisingly good shape all things considered. I looked into the neighbourhood, it’s good, safe.” Connor’s frown deepened. “Whatever you plan to sell this house for, I can’t afford it. The mortgage on a place like this, even with a full coven paying in-”   
  
“I’ve talked this over with a friend of mine who knows more about real estate than I do,” Gavin said, then holding up his hand before Connor got the change to interrupt. “Does it change anything if I keep the house in my name?”   
  
“Witches don’t like to rent, if a problem with the landlord develops- and we tend to settle long term.”   
  
“Rent to own?”   
  
Connor gave that more thought, staring into one of the large rooms. “Depending on the contract- but still-”   
  
“I don’t want this place,” Gavin said. “But it never felt right to get rid of it. Not until now. We’ll work it out, if you want it.”   
  
Connor smirked a bit. “Better show me the basement first.”   
  
::  
  
Rhys sat on Connor’s left, and Noah sat on his right. Markus walked in, the bell over the door jingling, wore a smile as he walked across the cafe, and sat down across from them. “It’s good to see you three again.”   
  
“Good to see you too, Markus,” Connor said. “I hate to rush into this, but I know Carl doesn’t have much time.”   
  
Markus frowned, his shoulders falling. “I know.”   
  
“What are Leo’s plans?” Connor asked. He’d been lucky- in a terrible way- that Carl’s health had taken a turn for the worse just before Amanda’s meeting with him. He hadn’t recovered.   
  
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Markus replied, troubled. “He won’t actively give up power, but he’s not fit to lead. He does however have the Manfred name by blood.” Although Markus had been officially adopted by Carl, he was still three years younger than Leo, and geomancer rather than the hydromancers that Manfred family members had been for generations. Leo had been the Apprentice, and thus the coven would fall to him. Markus was bitter about it, the coven he loved so much falling into the hands of Leo who was a selfish prick at best.   
  
Connor leaned partially across the table. “We want to leave Amanda.”   
  
Markus shot a nervous glance in Noah’s direction, then refocused on Connor. “You have another coven in mind?”   
  
“Our own.”   
  
Markus sat back in his seat a little, eyes wide. “What?”   
  
“I have a place, it’s not finished, but I’m working on it. We can’t leave without a coven, and yours will fall apart under Leo.”   
  
Markus tapped his fingers slowly on the table. “You want my coven to merge with your fledgling coven.”   
  
“I want you as my apprentice Markus.”   
  
He raised a brow at that. “I’m not a necromancer.”   
  
“No, you’re not,” Connor said, running his hand through his hair. A nervous gesture he thought he’d outgrown. “You’re every bit as skilled in your own right. I don’t need to teach you. I need someone I can trust to manage the coven if I’m ever away, or incapacitated, someone I can trust to take over in the event of my death.”   
  
Markus glanced at Noah again, then back to Connor. “I’m not abandoning the Manfred Coven until Carl passes.”   
  
“I wouldn’t expect you to.”   
  
His fingers tapped along the wood grain, like he was playing piano. “There are only a few in the Coven who will stay with Leo in charge. Carl can’t see it. He adores his son, but we all remain for him.” He glanced at Rhys. “North joined us a month back.”   
  
Rhys’s eyebrows shot up. “Last I heard, she skipped out to Las Vegas-”  
  
Connor shot an elbow directly into Rhys’s ribs. “We’d be more than happy to have her.”   
  
“Seriously?” Rhys glared at him.  
  
“Yes, seriously,” Connor hissed.  He then turned his attention back to Markus. “She was a part of our Coven for so long. She is missed.” A pyromancer amidst a coven of necromancers, odd but it wasn’t his place to question Amanda.   
  
“Seriously-”   
  
Connor’s power flared around his fingers, and he glared at his twin. “We would be lucky to have North with us, you will leave your little spat behind-”  
  
“ _Little spat_ ,” Rhys snapped, shadows moving around them. “Is that what you call it?”   
  
Connor knew he’d gone too far. Rhys and North had dated for a little over the year, the only person outside of their family that Connor could confidently say that Rhys loved. He still didn’t know what their fight had been about, Rhys refused to open up about it.   
  
“We need this,” Connor said, softly this time, pressing his magic against Rhys’s before the cafe staff noticed the shifting shadows.   
  
“I don’t trust her,” Rhys said. “She lacks in loyalty- but if you want her in this coven.” He looked past Connor, to Noah. “Fine.” With that, he got up, and stormed out.  
  
“Anyone else we should know about?” Connor asked.   
  
“I think you know everyone else in our coven. You probably know the few that will remain loyal to Leo.”  
  
“Who’s the new necromancer?” Connor asked.   
  
“Ah, that would be Chloe, she’s lovely for the most part. Keeps killing my orchids though.” Markus tapped his fingers a few more times on the table before crossing his arms.   
  
“I need to know, Markus.”   
  
The other man nodded, and smiled wide. “I’m in.”   
  
There were a few people Connor knew in other covens who were also willing to join. He’d have a full coven. He glanced over at Noah with a smile. They would be free.   
  
::  
  
Later in the day, Connor arrived at what would soon be the Arkay Coven House to see Gavin’s car already in the driveway. He stepped out of his car in a pair of Rhys’s ripped jeans (hoping that the rips were on accident, and not some fashion statement he didn’t really understand), and an old t-shirt he wouldn’t mind getting paint on. Out of the back, he grabbed two boxes of pizza, and a bag of assorted drinks.   
  
He managed to balance it all, and get into the house. Even with all the windows open, and fans blowing, it smelled heavily of fresh paint. He found Gavin in the living room. The carpet had seen better days, but since they discovered there was hardwood floors underneath (after pulling up one of the corners) they figured it best to paint, then remove the carpet, and refinish the floors.   
  
Gavin had thrown his shirt over the folding chair that held the stereo currently blasting the latest alternative rock tracks, Gavin singing along as he painted. Connor stared at the muscles bunching and shifting as Gavin worked the roller up and down the walls, coating it in a muted grey. There were a couple of little scars, paler than the rest of his skin, and a star-burst that looked like a bullet’s exit wound. Connor had the overwhelming urge to run his fingers over them, hear their stories, run his tongue-  
  
He cleared his throat loudly. “I brought pizza!”   
  
Gavin jumped, nearly kicked the paint bucket. He turned fully and glared at Connor. “You’re sneaky.”   
  
“I’m not, you just-” he paused in his yelling to turn down the music to something more tolerable. “You listen to your music very loud.” He tried to keep his gaze on Gavin’s face, but it kept falling lower, appreciating the muscular body in front of him. “Pizza,” he said again, trying to keep from ogling Gavin.   
  
“Nice- no olives right?”   
  
“You were very specific on the phone,” Connor replied. “No olives.”   
  
They both ended up sitting on the floor- a lot of the furniture had been removed, and there wasn’t a proper place to sit anymore. The boxes of pizza between them. Gavin took one of the bottles of water, condensation on the plastic, and held it to the back of his neck- the heat of the house obviously getting to him.   
  
“Thank you, for doing this,” Connor said. They’d managed to come to agreement on payment and contract. It helped that as a seller, Gavin didn’t much care, he just wanted the property to shift hands, and was willing to be far undercut. It didn’t seem fair, and at first Connor had felt bad for even considering, but Gavin looked happier now that it was finished, that the walls were being painted, that Connor had ordered new curtains, that there would be lives inside of these walls once more. “You didn’t have to help me with painting.”  
  
“This kind of work is satisfying. You see what it was, and then what it becomes,” Gavin shrugged. “I like it. My shoulder’s won’t in the morning I’m sure.”   
  
“I guess I’ll have to massage the knots out,” Connor said, staring down at the pizza in hand. “It’s only fair.” After too long of a moment, Connor forced himself to look over at Gavin, to see the man grinning.   
  
“What is it about food that makes you a flirt?”   
  
“I- that’s not- food doesn’t make me- you’re hot- _shit_.” Connor’s face felt feverish, while Gavin burst out laughing.   
  
“Sorry,” he said, still laughing. “You’re adorable.” He reached across the pizza boxes, and grabbed Connor’s hand.   
  
Connor stared down at the hand over his, the difference tones of their skin, the little scars on Gavin’s knuckles, and the spattering of freckles on his own skin. “Not adorable,” he muttered.   
  
“You are,” Gavin argued. “But back to my theory. I think I should take you out to dinner- it’s my turn to pay anyway.”   
  
Connor felt his heart race so suddenly it left him a little dizzy. He tore his eyes from their hands, to look at his face. “Like-” he trailed off, afraid to voice it, afraid to be wrong.   
  
“Like a date.” Gavin frowned, then shook his head. “No, not like a date. _A date._ ”   
  
“A date.”   
  
Gavin gave a slow nod, looking as nervous as Connor felt. “Yeah.”   
  
Connor took a deep breath. “Okay.”   
  
The smile he got in return was worth the flutter of nerves. “Yeah?”   
  
Connor nodded.   
  
“Okay then,” Gavin trailed his thumb over Connor’s knuckles, and grabbed his slice of pizza with his free hand. “We’re going on a date.”   
  
The words brought Connor such joy, magic sparking around his fingers- the ones connected to Gavin. The man tensed, but didn’t pull back. “I won’t hurt you,” Connor whispered.   
  
And just like that, the tension drained from Gavin’s posture, a soft smile on his face. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally just something short I was going to write a bit of over on [ Detroit: New ERA ](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm)  
> but then it took on a life of it's own, and now we are here... finishing up the last bit... planning the sequel...


End file.
